Portland Renaissance

By Barry Locke

From the mid-1980s through the 1990s, the elements that would define Portland as a magical city were coming together. Known for its local restaurants and craft beer as well as its national prominence in advertising and athletic wear, Portland invited and embraced creativity in all its forms. In Portland Renaissance, you can revisit a time when Portland became Sneakertown, Beervana, a foodie city, an urban living exemplar, a creative oasis, and a place where anything seemed possible.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alden Corner Publishing
• Release date: Nov 30, 2023
• ISBN: 9798988938521

Book preview

Portland Renaissance: When creativity redefined a city by Barry LockePortland Renaissance: When creativity redefined a city by Barry Locke

Alden Corner Publishing

Portland, Oregon

Copyright © 2023 by Barry Locke

All rights reserved. No parts of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. Published 2023.

Printed in the United States.

For information, contact: [e-mail]

www.Renaissancepdx.com

Hardcover ISBN: 979-8-9889385-0-7

Paperback ISBN: 979-8-9889385-1-4

ebook ISBN: 979-8-9889385-2-1

Library of Congress Control Number: 2023920261

Cover design by Billy Lymm

To Kim, my muse, my consigliere,

and easily the best of what I found in Portland.

Contents

Author’s Note

Introduction: A Golden Era for Creativity

Chapter 1: An Invitation to All

Chapter 2: Portland Gets Its Star

Chapter 3: One Tough Campaign

Chapter 4: Something’s Brewing

Chapter 5: An Appetite for Change

Chapter 6: Art is On the Move

Chapter 7: Success From the Ground Up

Chapter 8: A Stage for Authors

Chapter 9: Brands and Bands Come Together

Chapter 10: Beer Goes to the Theater

Chapter 11: An Exciting Time for Art

Chapter 12: Chaos Strikes Gold

Chapter 13: A Festival of Beer

Chapter 14: Pearl 1: A Land of Opportunity

Chapter 15: It’s Gotta Be the Ads

Chapter 16: The Power of Anti-Suggestion

Chapter 17: Pearl 2: Art’s Early Adopters

Chapter 18: The World Was Moving

Chapter 19: Bo’s Moment to Remember

Chapter 20: The Streets Have Their Names

Chapter 21: Portland Hits Its Stride

Chapter 22: Zefiro Starts a Scene

Chapter 23: Field of Exceeded Dreams

Chapter 24: Nike’s Kind of Town

Chapter 25: It’s a Foot Race

Chapter 26: Pearl 3: A Place to Call Home

Chapter 27: Please Welcome to the Stage

Chapter 28: Putting Portland on the Table

Chapter 29: A Welcome Return

Chapter 30: A Food City Rises

Chapter 31: Changing the Ad Game

Chapter 32: Dining With a Twist of Cool

Chapter 33: A New Voice Emerges

Chapter 34: A Leap Forward for the Arts

Chapter 35: This Place Was Hopping

Chapter 36: Creativity Pays

Chapter 37: More Brewers Pour In

Chapter 38: Reuse, Remake, and Refill

Chapter 39: What a Ride

Chapter 40: Pearl 4: An Expanded Vision

Chapter 41: One Call Changed It All

Afterword: So, what's next?

Epilogue: Where are they now?

Acknowledgments

References

About the Author

Author’s Note

The idea for this book came to me in 2022 while I was lying in a hospital bed after successful surgery for cancer. Clearing a major milestone in a battle against a life-threatening disease, I wondered what I should do next. It didn’t take long for my thoughts to turn to Portland, the city I quickly fell in love with when I moved here in 1994. Portland was easy-going, friendly, and quirky. It was also bursting with creativity and individual ingenuity, much of which I would learn had taken hold within the previous 10 years, and would continue in the years to come. It is a time that deserves to be celebrated.

I interviewed almost 50 people for this story, all of whom agreed the 1980s and ’90s was a special time in Portland’s history. With the help of their memories as well as media accounts, I’m happy to tell about it. What isn’t here is an equal examination of Portland’s problems during the era. As in any city, there were plenty. That’s not this book and I’m not that writer. Respectfully, I wanted to explore Portland’s successes, accomplishments that drew national attention to the area, and a time that redefined this city. Enjoy.

Introduction

A Golden Era for Creativity

It might not be wise to proclaim a particular era in a city’s history the most significant, or most influential, or most creative. Too many factors, collections of events, and individual life experiences can make any such declaration feel inherently subjective.

That said, in my book — which this is — the period from the mid-1980s through the 1990s in Portland, Oregon, was the most significant, most influential, and most creative time in the city’s modern history.

It was a time that saw Portland emerge from, take your pick, an unsophisticated West Coast afterthought overshadowed by Seattle and San Francisco, a haven for freaks and geeks in a place yet to fully embrace the civic virtues of being weird, or a rough port town transitioning from a timber-based economy to a widely recognized creative hub.

During those final years of the 20th century, Portlanders produced visionary advertising that won national awards and ignited the local creative industry. They helped launch the craft brewing industry, which redefined how Americans drink beer. They designed shoes and clothes that would establish Portland as the athletic wear capital of the world. They opened restaurants that rivaled those in much larger cities. And they transformed a decaying warehouse district into an exemplar for urban living. These are things that got Portland noticed, and still today, are what the city is known for.

To put it another way, Portland became Sneakertown, Beervana, a dining jewel, an advertising hotbed, and the city that works. It encompassed a time that The Washington Post said, changed the city into a hipster haven and international tourist destination.

Locals can contemplate whether that’s a good or bad thing next time they’re sitting in traffic on the Marquam Bridge, but the fact remains that Portland in the ’80s and ’90s enjoyed a renaissance that would redefine the city. Creativity showed up not only in the arts, but in ideas for new businesses, public-private partnerships to spur growth, and an acceptance that encouraged individual pursuits. Over and over, Portlanders had ideas and found ways to make them happen.

There was just a bit of a sense that you could come here and you could be anything, said Karen Brooks, a longtime Portland writer. Or you could just be nothing in the sense that you didn’t have to have a big career or strive for more. If you wanted to do something really cool or interesting, if you wanted to be in the government, or you wanted to be in a band, or you wanted to have a restaurant, or you just wanted to do something, you could do it here.

It wasn’t always that way. For most of the country, the 1970s and into the ’80s were a struggle, particularly in America’s cities. Recession, double-digit interest rates, and a tight labor market contributed to a pessimism that left young people questioning their future, including in Portland.

In the ’70s, nobody in their right minds would stay in Portland, Oregon, said architect Brad Cloepfil. Every young person left. Downtown was dead. The place was dead. And so everyone left. And then, you know, all of a sudden things started happening.

The seeds for Portland’s renaissance had been planted in the years before. The low cost of living enabled creative individuals to pursue passion projects such as experimental filmmaking, independent newspapers, community theater, music, and the like, while still making rent.

There was a real underground creative community, said longtime Portland arts critic Bob Hicks. A lot of people moved to Portland because it was cheap. You could be a poor artist without being a starving artist.

Politically, the tenor changed from backroom dealing to community involvement, which led to urban success stories like converting downtown streets into bus-only routes and the beginning of an extensive light rail system. A concerted desire to make downtown more livable produced a vast waterfront park and a central square. For whatever challenges Portland was undergoing, there was a spirit to make things better.

To its credit, I think the city wanted this, said restaurant owner Cory Schreiber. I mean, from every level that you’re looking at, the arts, the sports, the radio, the journalism, the architecture, the urban planning, all that stuff. To me, it was always woven in together.

Over time, the economy improved and opportunity increased. Homegrown athletic wear companies saw their national profiles enhanced in part by the creativity of local ad agencies. Art galleries, restaurants, and beer pubs added to the city’s enjoyment. People continued to pursue and enjoy their creative interests.

Portland just became sort of a mecca, said Bill Foster, who ran Portland’s Northwest Film Center from 1981 to 2018. There was the ad agency business, the photography business, graphic design, musicians, writers. All these people plying their trade.

Many credit Portland’s geography as a relatively secluded outpost for an anything-goes attitude that spurs creativity. Others point to the mountains and the coast as diversions and inspirations. Some even credit the weather for helping to nurture ideas.

A lot of the year it’s gray, so you have to add your own color, designer Steve Sandstrom said. If you’re in that gray environment, it’s kind of neutral space for you to go and do something to brighten it, or darken it, or whatever. But it is sort of a blank canvas.

To be sure, Portland was not perfect. Known as the Whitest city in America, it had long incorporated policies that negatively impacted Black communities. A history of redlining — the practice of denying mortgage loans to non-Whites in certain areas — followed by redevelopment of neighborhoods in the inner core resulted in the displacement of Blacks from many neighborhoods, including Albina. White supremacists roamed the city and in 1988 beat to death an Ethiopian immigrant, which soon would earn Portland the title of Skinhead City. The LGBTQ community also was under attack, informally in a society largely often hostile to its members and formally in multiple ultimately unsuccessful statewide ballot measures seeking to deny their rights.

Yet positive word spread that something cool was happening in Portland, attracting young people who added their own contributions to the city even as longtime residents sought progress as well.

It was a renaissance, culturally, civically, across the board, said visual artist and urban planner Tad Savinar. People were willing to roll up their sleeves and forge ahead.

Any discussion of a renaissance touts the importance of self-determination and the inherent rewards of curiosity and individual pursuits. To be sure, Portland welcomed those pursuits and allowed them to take root, which in turn seeded more change well into the 21st century. It remains to be seen whether the city can solve the problems of the early 2020s — rising crime, drug use, mental health, and homelessness — with solutions that benefit all. Maybe a look back to the 1980s and ’90s can provide inspiration.

Portland to me was the coolest place to live and evolved into that by being open to new ideas and to different people, said Kristy Edmunds, who started the Portland Institute of Contemporary Art in 1995. It felt like a place where if you wanted something to happen, you could make it happen.

So much happened. And a new city emerged.

· · · · · ·    1    · · · · · ·

An Invitation to All

ON APRIL 6, 1984, A crowd estimated at 10,000 gathered in downtown Portland for a celebration. In a scene to be repeated over the next several decades for causes and gatherings large and small, the opening of Pioneer Courthouse Square gave all who were there the opportunity to experience for the first time what architect Will Martin called a downtown living room for the people of Portland.

Mayor Frank Ivancie, who had opposed the project, put his political spin on his remarks, saying, Like any good family, the people of Portland join ranks and get the job done.

It took decades to get Pioneer Courthouse Square done. From a notion that began in the 1960s, took hold in the ’70s, and culminated in the ’80s, the goal was clear: Invite Portlanders downtown.

The idea for a major downtown public space that would become Pioneer Courthouse Square emerged in 1961. A one-block site, bound by Southwest Broadway, Salmon, Yamhill, and 6th Avenue, held a two-story parking lot where the elegant Portland Hotel once stood. With its central location, Mayor Terry Schrunk ordered city planners to study the site as a potential focal point for the city.

The effort was a recognition that downtown Portland needed an upgrade. Following the national trend, people had largely abandoned urban settings in favor of suburban living. That left a tired downtown, disproportionately inhabited by bars and strip clubs, in a city with a struggling economy.

At the same time, a new energy was emerging, creating more civic involvement and a desire for a better way of life.

There was certainly a shift from the ‘old guys in suits and hats’ kind of politicians in the 1950s to the ’70s, said Bill Foster, longtime director of Portland’s Northwest Film Center. I think it was just the idealism of the age, and the people moving here from other places. Neil Goldschmidt gets the credit for being the catalyst that shook off the old-fashioned city bureaucracy. I think he certainly inspired a bunch of people that came of age in the ’60s that had a different attitude about life.

It is hard to reconcile the accomplishments of Goldschmidt, Portland’s mayor from 1973-79, with the later accounts of his repeated sexual abuse of an underage girl while he was in office. But his influence in the revitalization of downtown, opening up city government to greater neighborhood representation, and drawing talented people to key city commissions, all contributed to a new realization of what Portland could be.

During the 1970s, Harbor Drive was removed to make room for a 35-acre riverfront park. It was renamed Tom McCall Waterfront Park in 1984 after the Oregon governor who initiated the project in the late-’60s. As Pioneer Courthouse Square became known as Portland’s living room, Waterfront Park served as its front yard, playing host to festivals, concerts, speaking events, as well as sunbathers, runners, and casual guests for years to come.

In addition, the Portland Transit Mall, a public transportation corridor that opened in 1977, converted Northwest 5th and 6th Avenues to mostly bus traffic. Goldschmidt also led the revolt against the controversial Mount Hood Freeway proposal, which would have cut through neighborhoods in Southeast Portland. Instead, the money designated for the freeway helped fund MAX light rail, which opened in 1986.

Much of the thinking for the future of Portland was outlined in the 1972 Downtown Plan. Fifteen months in the making, the report, with contributions from a citizen advisory group, offered recommendations to enhance the livability of downtown.

A key goal was to develop a major city square in the center of downtown to provide a focal point and gathering place. The debate continued over what that would be and in 1980 the city staged an open design competition that drew 162 entries nationwide.

Finalists emerged from New York City, San Francisco/Los Angeles, Boston, Philadelphia, and Portland, and were given $10,000 each to develop their pitch. The competition included Lawrence Halprin, who had designed Ghirardelli Square in San Francisco, and Warren Schwartz, designer of New York’s City Hall.

Martin, the Portland architect, assembled a team of outside advisers, a sort of creative kitchen cabinet, to help develop and then critique ideas. Inspired by plazas in Europe, including the Piazza del Campo in Siena, Italy, they developed a plan for an open-air space that could accommodate virtually any type of public event.

I’m intrigued with the idea of always leaving something for the observer to complete, Martin told The Oregonian.

As part of their blind entry, Martin and his team built an intricate hardwood model assembled in the basement of a former Buddhist temple at Northwest 10th Avenue and Everett Street.

His theory was we couldn’t tell them that we were from Portland, but we could show them that we had a sensibility and a caring for this project that no one else did, said Cameron Hyde, a young architect at Martin’s firm. Everybody in the whole office was really excited about it. And every time we had a lunch hour or before and after work, we’d go down and see what was going on.

When it came time to choose a winner, judges acknowledged the diversity of potential uses when they selected the proposal from Martin’s group in the summer of 1980. It was a big idea, led by a big thinker.

He was definitely a big-picture guy, Hyde said. He couldn’t detail anything at all. But he had a really good sense for what things should be. The idea of the public square I thought was right on.

Not everyone agreed. Powerful business interests, fearing the square would become a gathering spot for transients, preferred a glass-enclosed structure, perhaps even requiring admission. Private donations to fund the park dried up. Within just a few months of the competition, Mayor Ivancie declared the project dead.

Public outcry was immediate and loud. Former Governor McCall, still a powerful voice through his weekly television commentary, blasted the potential rejection of the design competition’s result. One Saturday, Martin led his agency’s workers to the site. Using bright orange paint over the one-square-block area, they painted the entire surface to show what the square would look like. Soon, a citizens’ group conceived the idea to sell personalized bricks to the public to help overcome the budget shortfall.

In a sign of a new era, public sentiment won out. The city got its square.

According to The Oregonian, many in the crowd spent their time ahead of the noontime opening ceremony searching among the 60,000 personalized bricks that covered the square’s lower arena. Sold to the public for $15 or $30, the bricks contributed to the 30 percent of the $7.9 million project that was privately financed.

The family feud is over, Martin declared during the ceremony, sailing his flat-brimmed hat into the crowd. It was his 54th birthday.

The square’s multiple levels of steps doubled as seating in an amphitheater-type setting, and one corner included wrought-iron fencing